Dusky Duke and the Gypsy Pirate Princess (17 page)

“Honesty is the perfect age,” defended Greyson his voice still stiff, “any younger and I would be accused of robbing the cradle,” Greyson looked pointedly at Penelope Horace who appeared to be about eighteen. Penelope twittered.

“We haven’t seen you in town for the season, why is that?”

Honesty tried to decide on an answer, but Greyson answered for her. “Family obligations have kept Honesty from town for several years. For which I am exceedingly happy. For if she had been twirling around London, I am sure she would be married to some handsome prince by now, and I would not have been lucky enough to even dance with her.”

“Hear, Hear,” Lord Horace raised his glass and saluted the couple.

“Well, I am sure we must have run into you before at one event or another. Which school did you attend, dear?”

Again Greyson answered, “Honesty was privately tutored by Lord Simpson. He was a mathematics professor at Cambridge University before he retired.”

Honesty raised her eyes in surprise. She was amazed that he knew that about Lord Simpson. Few did, and Lord Simpson had requested that the Williams not inform others. Her eyes narrowed. What other things had he learned from the children?

“Well, Penelope attended Cambridge Academy for young ladies, the best school for girls that money can buy.” Penelope twittered again.

Greyson refused to respond and after a short silence, Lady Horace changed the subject. “That is a lovely gown. It is so simple, but I guess it works well in the country. Where did you get it, dear?”

“Monsieur Don LaClaire,” Honesty’s French pronunciation was superb.

Penelope gasped, and Greyson watched Lady Horaces’ eye narrowed in jealously. The second course was served - prime rib and new potatoes.

“I had heard he did not take new clients.”

“True, but exceptions will be made for the Duchess of Devonshire.” Greyson tone was cold again.

Lady Horace bowed her head and concentrated on her plate. Greyson realized that Honesty was not eating again. He cursed his sister and her noisy, jealous guests. He did not invite the Horaces to his estates because he knew this particular matron had long had her sights set on one of her daughter’s marriage to him. He shuttered. He could not imagine being wed to that simmering child. Penelope twittered again at something Robert said. Greyson thought the sound like nails on slate.

“I am surprised that your own mother is not present to chaperone you, dear. Are there problems at home?”

Greyson watched Honesty’s eyes narrow as she recognized the veiled insult. Greyson opened his mouth to answer, but Honesty beat him to it. “I am surprised that you do not feel that the supervision of myself by two such fine ladies as the Duchess of Devonshire and the Duchess of Winston would be sufficient. I am sure that if I mention it to them that you feel their protection is lacking they will be willing to improve it immediately.” Honesty blinked at Lady Horace in innocence.

“Oh, no, no, dear, I am sure that their supervision is perfectly adequate.” Lady Horace backtracked.

Greyson felt like smiling, but reframed.

Lady Horace tried again, “I meant no disregard for the Duchesses of course, I only wondered about the absence of your mother, my child.”

Greyson responded, “Mrs. Williams is overseeing the preparing for their four sons to attend Eton this fall. She will be back soon.”

Lady Horace nodded at this information and silence lasted until the fifth course.

“The Willaims, would you be kin to the Lord Edward Williams?” Lady Horace asked.

“No, madam.” Honesty answered.

“I am sorry, but I am having a hard time placing your family, dear. Who are you related to?”

Greyson replied his tone clipped, “Honesty is the great granddaughter of the late Marque of Hanover.”

Lady Horace almost hissed in envy.

Greyson caught Honesty’s questioning look of confusion and disapproval.

After dinner, all the guests retired to the grand salon except for SarahBeth and Honesty, who accompanied the older lady to her suite.

“Honesty, dear child, come in.”

Once settled on the settee, the dowager duchess seemed to have a hard time starting on what she wanted to say. “Dear,” the older woman patted her on the knee in a familiar gesture. “I hope Greyson has explained the necessary of refraining from. . . martial activities until September.” Both females blushed.

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“You must call me, grandmother like all of my other children, dear.”

“Yes, Grandmother.” Honesty nodded uncomfortable with the conversation.

“You must listen to me, dear. Greyson does not seem to understand the importance of this, but I am hoping you do. You must be the one to show restrain because given any encouragement from you, and his promise to me will be history.” At Honesty slight sound of protest, she continued, “and the rules of the engagement must stand. Just because Bridgette is not presence does not mean her spies are not. No more riding at dawn astride, on one horse, un-chaperoned, and returning with missing petticoats.”

Honesty gasped, but SarahBeth patted her hand. “Nothing that a young married couple should not do, but for a young engaged couple. . .” she shook her head. “I know this is hard, but it is for your own good. Now that I have embarrassed you royally, I bide you good-night, dear girl. Please know that I care about you, and want only the best for you.”

Honesty left the dowager duchesses chambers feeling lost and confused. She was neither fully engaged nor married. She was a hidden duchess and wife to a man that she truly did not know well. Everyone was waiting to see her mess up. After the way, Grey had answered questions addressed to her at dinner, she knew he was protecting her because he knew she couldn’t handle it. The truthfully, she admitted to herself she couldn’t. That lady had been to the point of rudeness in her questions. And Honesty knew that she was just the first one in a very long line.

Grey had even invented a famous family for her. He was ashamed of her heritage. Why had he wanted to marry her? She wasn’t duchess quality. She didn’t have the proper schooling, or the family, or anything – except the right clothier.

She did not think she could do this. The duchess wanted her to tell Grey no if he wanted to consummate their marriage. Honesty put her hands on her hot cheeks. She had never contemplated telling him no. How would he react? She could imagine her father’s response when she had tried to stand up to him in the past. The singe from the fury still lingered on the edges of her memory. Honesty slumped onto a chair in the hall against the stair railing. She just wanted to go home and climb in bed with Abby and Maggie and go to sleep. She missed them so much the pain felt like her was drowning. She couldn’t breathe. Honesty took a steadying breath to calm herself. She knew that she would be expected in the salon soon. Grey would be waiting.

“I cannot believe that he picked someone so plain,” Lady Horace’s voice drifted down from the second floor. “I mean, seriously, what is the appeal?”

“She has a trim figure,” Lady Lenore stated. Honesty recognized the second speaker.

“Yes, but then Monsieur Don LaClaire can make anyone look good.” “I tell you, I know that she trapped him into marriage, just you wait and see. I would not be surprised if the get shows up only a couple of months after the wedding. So sad too, as I am sure he was planning to ask for Penelope’s hand in a few months on her eighteen birthday. Our families have always had an understanding, you know.

“Surely, she cannot be that far along. She would be showing in two months at the wedding. If that were the case, I am sure the duchess would have opted for a quicker wedding.”

“Oh, mark my words; I am sure with her broad hips that she will be one of those females that does not show until the end.”

The two women moved down the staircase. Honesty stood up and faced the two. Her head popped into view as they drew level with her. The two ladies startled in a shriek.

Honesty tilted her head to one side, and as if considering the matter. “I think it is marvelous the way you have decided the duke’s motives for his actions. I shall tell him of your conclusions, my dears. I do, however, think it strange that you would be so ill breed as to discuss the matter in his house, and have the fortitude to insult a future duchess in her own home. ‘Enemies made early are remembered late.’ I have heard.” And with that Honesty turned and swept across the hall and into the salon.

Honesty walked across the room and stopped in front of the bay windows. Her hands were shaking with anger. She would never invite that lady to her house again. Honesty realized with surprise that she had that power. She had the power to ruin both of those ladies socially; a thought that stunned her. She was the Duchess of Devonshire. Those women should be begging for her favor not insulting her because of their petty jealousies. Greyson moved to stand behind her. She could see his concerned expression in the window panes. Honesty could also see the two ladies return to the salon. They excused themselves and their families from the evening and quickly left, casting several worried glances in Honesty’s direction. Honesty never turned from the window. Greyson stood behind her watching the situation in the window reflection. His brow was furrowed. He could feel the undercurrents in the room. These women were anxious and worried and it centered around Honesty. From where he was standing, he saw that her face was expressionless, but her hands were clenched. What had happened?

“Honesty?” Greyson said softly.

“I am tired; I believe I shall retire now.” Her voice was as expressionless as her face. She turned and strolled out of the room. Greyson watched her go.

After Honesty had been gone for several minutes, Greyson turned to his sister. “Lady Elizabeth is a close friend, yes?”

“Yes, indeed, one of my close friends from school.”

“I want you to send her a note tomorrow morning at Whitefork Manor. I want to know what happened here tonight between those ladies and Honesty.”

“What?” his sister asked, confused, “What happened?”

“That is what you will find out for me.” Greyson strolled out of the room.

He did not even pretend to go to his room, but went straight to Honesty’s. When he stepped from the hidden panel, he could see that she had been waiting for him. She stood in front of the window. Its drapes pulled back to allow the moonlight to stream in.

“What is wrong?” Greyson asked again softly.

She leaned her forehead against the window pane, before pulling herself together and shaking her head.

“Why did you tell Lady Horace that I was the granddaughter of the Marque of Hanover?”

“Did you not want them to know?”

“You should not make up things about me, someone will figure it out.”

Greyson tilted his head considering her comment. “Honesty, you are the great granddaughter of the late Marque of Hanover.”

“What?” she looked at him in confusion.

Greyson moved closer to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Your grandmother, the daughter of the Marque, married a man of no station. I have heard that she married for love, but he married for position. The Marque did not approve and disinherited her. The lady had a beautiful daughter who the father expected to marry well and win him the position in society that he had long craved. The beautiful daughter took society by storm. She was a gem of the first water and the belle of the ball for several seasons before she fell for a landless, young Captain.” Honesty’s eyes widened. “She was disowned by her own father when she eloped with the dashing Captain Williams…. You really have never heard this story?”

Honesty shook her head no.

“Well, I am surprised, but I imagine speaking of your mother at any time in your house would have been difficult.

Honesty nodded, still trying to take in what Grey had said.

“It seems, Darling, you come from a long line of beautiful, opinionated, gypsy, pirate princesses.” “Your grandfather is dead, but I believe your grandmother has been invited to the wedding.”

“Oh,” was all that Honesty could add.

“What is wrong?” Greyson asked again.

Doubt crossed Honesty’s face and she shook her head. Greyson slid his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up to his. When his lips touched hers, Honesty felt the stir of anticipation and the flutter of excitement. His touch was gentle. Honesty leaned forward as he tilted her head and nipped her bottom lip.

“Grey,” she started to protest, but he took advantage of her parted lips and deepened the kiss. Honesty tried to hold on to sanity. Instead, she held on to Grey by wrapping her arms around his neck and winding her fingers into his midnight black hair. She was so focused on the kiss that she was surprised when the collar of her dress slid down her arm. Honesty realized that Grey had unbuttoned the back of her gown right before his lips moved from her mouth to leave a trail of kisses across her skin of her bare shoulder. She tried to pull her scattered wits together as she felt the laces on her corset loosen. Honesty sucked in a huge breath and started to protest again, but Grey moved his attention back to her mouth. These kisses were more insistent. Oh, sweet heavens.

Honesty jerked her mouth away, and took another breath. Grey dipped his head to the swell of her breast that was now showing above the top of the loosened corset.

“No, no stop,” panted Honesty.

Greyson stilled. He placed another kiss where his lips were and then one on her shoulder before pulling his head back to look at her.

“Please,” Honesty pleaded. Was he going to be angry?

His expression was hard to read. “Is that what you want?”

Oh, why did he have to ask that? What she wanted were more kisses. They were soo…. No wonder, he had never kissed her before. “No,” she moaned softly and leaned toward him. Greyson met her halfway. This kiss was oh so much better than the last. “No,” she gasped again and drug her month away from his.

Greyson stilled again.

“Grandmother says we must not.” Honesty panted. “She says we must wait until September.”

“Is that what you want, Honesty?” he asked again.

Honesty ducked her head against his shoulder. She remembered those vicious women and their comments. She would not give them a reason to think Greyson had been trapped into marrying her. The strength of her pride stiffened her resolve. “Waiting is important to me.” She nodded her head. Her eyes begged him to understand. “Can’t we just court? We have never really courted. Can’t our engagement be like a real engagement with proper chaperones and all?” her tone begged.

Greyson stared at her in silence. “If that is what you want.” His voice was clipped and edged with disappointment.

“You are angry with me?”

“No, Darling. I am unhappy and frustrated as hell, but I am not angry.”

“Grandmother says you are not to come to my room anymore, and no more un-chaperoned rides at dawn.”

Greyson cursed at his grandparent as he pulled the gown back up on her shoulder.

“I must go if I am to keep my word, love.”

Honesty dropped her head forward in acceptance. “Good night,” and then he was gone.

Honesty shucked out of the gown and the under clothes which was easy since they were already undone. She crawled into the bed and pulled the covers up over her head. Why was everything so complicated? Why couldn’t she just climb into bed with Grey and find out where kisses led. Oh, she knew the anatomy of it, but somewhere along the lines the adults had never mentioned the feelings that came with it. Definitely something they had neglected to mention. Honesty shrugged. Maybe that is something parents did not want good little girls to be curious about. Honesty was certainly curious now. Her skin tingled as she remembered how Grey had kissed the emerald around her neck and the comment about belonging naked against her skin. She sighed. Two months were an extremely long time.

♣♣♣

Greyson sat in his study the next day, frustrated and fretting. He had moved too fast. After only a handful of kisses, he had started stripping her out of her clothes. He must have frightened her to death. He should have gone slower. Where was his control? An image of Honesty’s kiss dazzled eyes filled his mind. He groaned and slammed his ledger against the desktop. He had been right to not kiss her before. Greyson shifted uncomfortably. Two months. Was two months too early for a baby to arrive without questions? He frowned and raked his hand through his hand. Probably. How about six weeks, didn’t babies arrive early all the time? Was six weeks too early? And who said she would become pregnant immediately. There were methods to prevent the occurrence. Maybe if they used the methods and only waited until an early delivery was not questionable? A month early was not unreasonable was it?

Greyson remembered his grandfather’s joke that the second child took nine months, but the first one could come at any time.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. The footman ushered in his sister. She flounced over and flopped ungracefully in the high-backed chair. He smiled as he remembered that with no one else was she allowed to act this way. He was after all only her big brother and no one to impress.

Teresa sighed dramatically and waved a letter in his direction. “You have no idea what trouble I had obtaining this information, the work and worry.”

Greyson raised his eyebrow, “You asked and your friend Elizabeth fell over herself to share the gossip.”

Teresa frowned and nodded, “Something like that.”

“Well,” Greyson waited.

Another dramatic sigh and then a long pause, Greyson did not rise to the bait, but sat patiently waiting.

“Elizabeth has informed me that Lord Horace and Lord Lenore are beside themselves with worry at your reaction to their wives’ insult of your intended. It seemed that the two ladies were discussing the possibly of Honesty increasing even now. Honesty overheard them and may have misinterpreted the intent of the conversation.” At this Teresa’s tone of voice and body language clearly indicated what she thought of the ‘conversation’. “Honesty confronted them.” Greyson’s face showed his surprise, “and apparently, informed the women that she would be sure to share their conclusion with you and that she found it ill-mannered for them to insult a future duchess in her own home.” Greyson and Teresa laughed together as they tried to picture the event. “She also said something about early enemies remembered late” Teresa added, reading from the letter directly.

Greyson realized he should not be surprised that his angel quoted Robert Kinard, a modern social reformist.

“Honesty did not tell you of this incident.”

“No,” Greyson shook his head. “And I knew she would not that is why I had you write Lady White.”

“Interesting,” Teresa tilted her head and grinned, “All I can say is your young wife is a spitfire, just wait until she finds her duchess feet and she will be as formable as grandmother, I have no doubt.”

“And I am depending on you and grandmother to show her what she needs to know. But you will not change her, not her clothes, or her manners, or her beliefs.”

“Am I to understand that you want me to teach Honesty to be a duchess without changing her from the girl she is now?” Teresa looked at him as though he was a brick wagon short of a horse.

“Yes, it should not be difficult. Honesty is already good at organizing people, directing activities, and dealing with multiple things at one time. She is to learn things one step at a time and is not to be overwhelmed by the tasks. Do I make myself clear?”

Teresa nodded, “Oh, yes, Your Grace.” Teresa tone had the same simpering agreeable voice that the servants used in the presence of the duke. His sister knew how that tone irritated her brother to death.

After Teresa left Greyson reflected on the information. He had thought something like that had happened, but he was surprised by Honesty’s direct confrontation with the two women. Should he intervene or allow her to handle it? His hands absentmindedly tapped against the edge of the desk. He pondered the women’s conversation. Was that why Honesty had said no last night? His grandmother seemed convinced that Honesty increasing before the wedding would ruin her in society. Greyson remembered Lady Horace’s rude and pointed questions. Her none too subtle search for anything to discredit Honesty’s worth. And the only thing they would find would be if she became pregnant before the wedding. Greyson slapped his hands down hard. He renewed his resolve to only court Honesty as she had requested until the wedding. They could manage this. And besides, if her father had not insisted they would now only be engaged. He would court her and wait the two months. It would be an event that they would look back on in fifty years and laugh about; if it didn’t kill him first.

♣♣♣

Honesty approached SarahBeth cautiously. “You wished to speak with me, Your Grace.”

The older women stared at Honesty in disapproval. “I have requested that you call me grandmother.”

Honesty bowed her head, “Yes, grandmother.”

“What is this I hear about you having an out with the ladies come to dinner last night?”

Honesty’s face flamed and she refused to meet the dowager duchess’ eyes. “I am sorry.”

“For what dear girl, that you didn’t toss them out on their ear as they deserved? I do admire your spunk, young lady. I had not the self-confidence to have addressed them directly myself at your age. Oh, but I wish I had been so bold at four and twenty. It would have made my life as a young duchess so much easier.”

Honesty gazed at SarahBeth in amazement at her words.

“You approve?”

“But of course.”

“But I was brash, and condescending, and returned insult for injury. I overstepped my place and caused problems between Grey and his neighbors.”

The dowager duchess nodded, “Greyson was right. I understand what he was saying now about you holding yourself to a ridiculous standard. Child, what you did last night was perfectly within your right. And you would be expected to go further if you wanted. You cannot overstep your place, girl – you are the Duchess of Devonshire. And neighbors or not Greyson barely tolerates the lot of them.

The older woman patted Honesty’s knee, “Child, listen to me. I believe that most of the behaviors that your stepmother viewed as flaws in your character are actually your strengths. From what I understand, your stepmother is very jealous of all the qualities you have in you that remind her of your mother. Those are the traits that caused your mother to be the queen of society. The same qualities that Robert told me won you the same place in your short season. I imagine knowing what I do of human nature that during that time, Mrs. Williams was impossible to please, and harangued you after every event.”

Honesty’s eyes widened and she nodded.

“My advice to you, child, is to consider every action your stepmother dismissed and tried to squash, the ones you should cultivate and practice.”

Honesty laughed in shock. Her mouth worked, but no sound emerged.

“Now, dear, how do you want to handle the incident of the Horaces?”

“How do you think I should handle it?”

“Well, if you agree, I shall send a note, issuing the invitation to the wedding once more. Because we are neighbors. And remind them that rudeness will not be tolerated again. That way the ladies must work to make amends and win your good grace.”